Scenes from the Best Enemies Series
by King in Yellow
Summary: Not sure there is enough narrative structure to call these stories. Scenes/cookies from the sprawling Best Enemies series. One: Sheki and Helen in The Chance of a Ghost. It's not easy being dead. Two: Felix in You Got to Crawl Before You Walk. Three: Ron may never drink again after meeting Lola.
1. The Chance of a Ghost

**Unfinished Tales** are exactly that, stories which need more done to them which I recognize I'm unlikely to do. **Scenes from the Best Enemies Series** are 'complete' in the sense this is all there is, but they don't have enough of a narrative structure for me to really call them stories - so they are scenes/cookies.

Boilerplate Disclaimer: The various characters from the Kim Possible series are owned by Disney. All registered trade names property of their respective owners. Cheap shots at celebrities constitute fair usage.

NoDrogs created Kasy and Sheki. They have a different origin in the BEU and it's my take on their character.

**The Chance of a Ghost**

"Sheki. Sheki. Please wake up."

The three year old awoke to see the lady in white standing by her bed. "Wha?" the little girl mumbled, still half asleep.

"You need to help me, they'll take me away."

"Take you away?"

"If they bury me I'll be gone. I'm certain of it. Please help me."

"How can I help you?"

"You must make sure they don't take all of me away." The girl still didn't appear to understand. "The skeleton they found in the basement I—"

"Skeleton?"

"The bones they found. Those were my bones, my skeleton. If they take them away I won't be here any more. You need to take some of my bones."

"Won't they look for them?"

"You don't need to take the whole skeleton. Please. Help me. Come to the basement with me."

"Mommy and Eemah said I shouldn't go to the basement."

"I need your help. Please."

Sheki didn't like to disobey her parents, and knew she would be in trouble if discovered, but she crawled out of bed and put on her slippers. The white lady and child went downstairs from the second floor and through the kitchen. The door to the basement was propped open, with strips of yellow plastic taped at the opening which read "Crime Scene Do Not Enter." The little girl found a flashlight in a kitchen drawer and turned it on as she ducked between strips of plastic and walked down the stairs. Helen, of course, simply glided through the yellow plastic.

"Do you like being a ghost?" Sheki whispered as they went down the stairs.

"I didn't know I was a ghost for a long time," Helen told her. "I wondered why the world seemed so strange, why the house was changing and who the different people were who were trespassing, I—"

"Dress-passing?"

"Trespassing. It means being somewhere you are not supposed to be. When-"

"Am I dress-passing? Mommy and Eemah said I shouldn't go down here, not until the police were all done."

"You are not trespassing. This is your home, so you belong here."

The two had reached the basement and were now in front of a masonry structure that had, in part, served as a central support column for the large house. A bricked-in rectangle on one side had suggested it was hollow and Shego thought it would make an excellent location for a panic room. She had guessed it served as a wine cellar or liquor vault and had been closed up for Prohibition. Earlier in the day, when the construction crew had broken through the old entrance, they discovered the skeleton and the police were called. It had been late in the day by the time the bricks were carefully removed and the police put up the yellow tape and left the house, warning Kim and Shego to do nothing to disturb the crime scene. Given the fact it appeared to be the coldest case any of the detectives had ever encountered they felt no rush to continue the investigation through the night.

The little girl shuddered slightly in the vast, dark basement as the flashlight illuminated the bones. "That's you?" she asked her companion.

"It was. Don't be afraid."

"You want to be a ghost?"

"I am not certain I have a choice. I hated the way things changed around me. It was very frustrating. Now that I can talk with you and that little oriental girl, I have a better understanding of who I am. The world seems so very different now from when I was alive. I am curious. I would like to stay here and see more of it, but if they bury me I know I will be gone."

"There are a lot of bones. Where can I hide you?"

"You don't need them all, just a little part of me needs to stay here… Maybe a finger."

Sheki cautiously slipped through the police barrier and knelt on the floor, focusing her light on the bones of the left hand. "You had a ring."

"It was a… It was very special to me. Tell your mothers I said you should have it."

"Can I have it now?"

"No, you should leave it for now. Take my little finger."

The small girl gingerly picked up the three bones and the pair retreated through the tape at the entrance of the future panic room and the top of the basement stairs. Unsure what to do with the bones Sheki wrapped them in two tissues and hid them in the bottom drawer of her dresser.

* * *

"I'm guessing it was a broken neck," the officer in charge of the investigation told Kim and Shego the next day as the forensics team finished their work. "Won't be official until the medical examiner writes his report."

"Our daughter says she talks with a ghost who claims to be Helen Kringle," Kim told him.

The officer shrugged, "We don't take testimony from ghosts, but we checked. Helen Kringle went missing about nineteen-twenty-two."

"Sheki, the kid who talks with ghosts," Shego added, "says there was some kind of ring the ghost wanted her to have."

"There were three or four pieces of jewelry. Since you own the house you'll probably get them when we're done."

"What will be done with the body, if it is Helen," Kim began. "I guess I should ask even if it's not Helen Kringle?"

"We had a guy run the Kringle angle. There's a family crypt in the cemetery with a spot for Helen. County takes care of it if she remains unidentified.

"I think we should see there is a proper burial," Kim told Shego.

"We only bought the house, any bodies aren't our responsibility," Shego countered.

"I'm not talking legal, I'm talking moral responsibility," the redhead responded. "I hope law school is not removing all your sense of morality."

"I didn't have much of one to begin with," Shego grumbled. "Fine. We'll make sure there is a proper burial. At least if it's Helen we don't have to buy a plot." She turned back to the officer, "Any idea when the medical examiner will be done?"

He shrugged, "Days? Weeks? I'm guessing DNA testing will be the end of it. That'll say if this was Helen or not."

"You mentioned jewelry," Kim said, "which seems to rule out robbery as a motive. Can you tell us anything else about the crime?"

"Not in an ongoing investigation."

"Get real," Shego snorted. "There is no way you're solving this. C'mon, anything else odd about the body or scene?"

"Well, whoever walled up the old wine cellar had to know the body was there, and it was most likely family. You could figure that out yourselves. Only nine fingers on the skeleton. Don't have anything that mentions Helen Kringle missing a finger - it's not on the old missing person report. Could have been carried off by a rat or mice so she might have had ten originally. Nothing to suggest it was cut off at the time of her death."

"We had a project going on down there," Shego reminded him. "Can we let the contractor get back to work or not?"

"We've got everything we need," he assured her. "Go ahead with your plans."

Sheki watched from the window as the men and women from the police department packed their equipment into vans and pulled out of the drive. If she were a little older she would have described her feeling as that of guilt for disobeying her mothers.

"It was okay to take the bones?" she asked for the tenth time that morning.

"It was my finger," the young woman in white standing beside her answered. "And I asked you to. That makes it permissible."

"Per… Permiss…"

"It means it was right for you to take them. Thank you. I don't know what would happen if I received proper burial. The minister used to talk a great deal about heaven and hell, but I don't believe I am ready for either right now."


	2. You Got to Crawl Before You Walk

Disney owns Kim Possible. Set before When Good Halloweens Go Bad.

**You Got to Crawl before You Walk**

Ron kept Aaron and Francis occupied in the hospital waiting room while Shego talked quietly with Justine, "How are you doing?"

"The doctors say he should—"

"Not Felix. How are you doing?"

"I… I'm not sure. I wasn't raised to think about my feelings. I guess I… This means so much to him, if it doesn't work I don't know what he'll—"

"Still with the Felix. How do you feel?"

"Frightened. I want it to work. I don't know what I'll do if it doesn't… I'm not even sure what I'll do if it does."

"Good job," Shego congratulated her. "He'll need a lot of support if it doesn't work… What are your worries if everything goes right?"

"It will be a change. I'm not good with change. I like routine… He might find someone better than me."

"He loves you."

"I love him, but he's wonderful and I'm not. I don't listen well to him. I insist on my way too much, I—"

"Whoa," Shego ordered. "Why do you say that?"

"He says it when we argue. He says I demand my way."

"You argue a lot or a little?"

"Define 'lot' and 'little'."

"Daily?" Justine shook her head 'no'. "Weekly?" The answer was again 'no'. "Monthly?" Justine hesitated, then gave another 'no'. "Yearly?"

"More often than that," Justine told her. "I would estimate three or four times a year."

"That's normal… Hell, probably better than normal. Arguments happen."

"I'm a poor mother, unable to relate to children."

"Probably from your parents. We inherit parenting skills – or the lack thereof."

"I am hovering and controlling."

"Does Felix say that?"

"No. I read books on parenting which helped me to diagnose my shortcomings, but not enabled me to correct them."

"Felix loves you."

The two women made small talk until a nurse came to say Felix was in recovery. While it would be a little while before he regained conscious Justine was encouraged to go to the recovery room and Justine told the others they could leave.

* * *

"Which toe?" the doctor asked.

"Left foot, big toe," Felix answered.

"Now?"

"Left foot, little toe."

"Now?"

"Right foot… Is that the middle toe? I'm out of practice with this."

"Yes it is Mr. Renton. You may open your eyes now."

"Felt good to feel them again. Can't wait for blisters."

"You're not ready for blisters. Try and move your feet now." The right foot twitched slightly. It wasn't clear if the left foot moved at all. There was a clear look of disappointment on Felix's face. "I warned you Mr. Renton – perfectly normal. Your muscles have atrophied. It'll take a lot of physical therapy and exercise before you can play the violin."

"He doesn't play the violin," Justine told him.

"It's a joke," Felix explained.

"What does a violin have to with—"

"I'll explain later. Right now I want to hear how soon before I can run a marathon."

"I hope that is a joke too," the doctor commented.

"Who's joking? Hit me with your best guess."

"Every patient is different. Some respond very quickly to therapy, some more slowly. It also depends on your commitment to the process. You sound enthusiastic now – let's see how you're doing after six or seven months of therapy and you're discouraged because you aren't making the progress you want."

"Middleton Marathon – five months. I'll be in it."

"No you won't."

"I've got who friend who says anything is possible."

"What color is the sky in your friend's world? You've got a fairly new therapist, don't put too much pressure on her. She doesn't do miracles. Your progress depends on your commitment to the very hard work you have ahead of you. Don't get discouraged when you aren't ready for a marathon this year – or one next year. Keep at it and you might be ready eventually."

"Can I have my first therapy session today?"

"Next week. Take it easy." He turned to Justine, "Doctor Renton, will you help me get your husband in the chair? You can take him over to therapy and meet Tracey Voss,the woman who'll work with him."

"I was hoping to walk out today," Felix said as he shook the doctor's hand before going to meet the therapist.

"I warned you, don't expect miracles. It could be a couple months before you can even stand without help."

"I consider even the fact I will be able to stand a miracle," Felix told him. "Middleton Marathon, I'll be there."

The doctor laughed, "I'll be at the finish line waiting for you with a drink in hand – two drinks, one for me and one for you."

"You run in the marathon?"

"No. I'll just be there. If I don't have surgery the next day I'll have Scotch. Apple cider if I have a surgery scheduled."

Felix chuckled, "Usually don't like Scotch, but sounds good."

Justine wondered if she could request a therapist who was older, uglier, and a man when they met Tracey Voss. The pangs of jealousy only grew worse when she realized how much time Felix would be spending with the young woman.

* * *

There were more people gathered near the banner marking the end of the Middleton Marathon course than Justine expected, more than she would have wanted. It reminded her of how much easier it was for Felix to make friends than it was for her.

Francis came running to the group and shouted, "Daddy's coming!" then turned around and ran back.

"How much time you figure?" a cameraman from a local television station asked the doctor with the bottle of Scotch.

"Let me call his therapist, she's out there with him." He placed the call and reported, "About half an hour. You could go tape while he's on the course."

"Nah… Probably not going to be more than two minutes of air time. I'll wait."

Felix smiled as he rounded a corner and saw the banner stretched over the path up ahead. He continued to move forward slowly, using two canes, but he commented to the woman walking beside him, "It's been almost two blocks since you called me a stubborn idiot."

"If you don't know it by now there's no hope… I suspect you know it by now."

"If I admit I'm a stubborn idiot will you let me turn in one cane?"

"Not until the finish line," Tracey sighed, "that was our deal."

"Gonna miss me as a patient?"

"Client, not patient. You're a pain… But I appreciate your dedication. I'll miss you."

Felix's friends lined up on either side of the sidewalk and cheered as he gradually made his way the last fifty feet to where the doctor stood on the finish line with a small glass of Scotch. To one side Tara poured apple cider into cups and gave them to Jason, Jessica, Kasy, and Sheki to distribute.

Felix stood, panting from the exertion, as his friends and family gathered around. The doctor handed him the amber liquid, "Well, you finished the Middleton Marathon," he chuckled as he filled plastic shot glasses and handed them out.

"No," Felix contradicted him, "I didn't."

"What do you mean?"

"Got a seven hour time limit."

"So, what was your time?" Tim Possible asked.

"Let me see… Nine hours on Saturday, seven on Sunday. Tired on Monday and only did three and a half, and this was…" He turned to Justine, "How long today?"

"Six hours and forty-seven minutes." She told him as he took a sip of Scotch.

"Sounds like a course record," Tim commented.

Felix looked at his wife, "Nice touch, getting the finish line back up again just for me."

Justine refused to take credit, "Kim and Shego arranged it."

"No problem," the head of the Middleton Runners Association told him, and threw back his shot. "You're an inspiration. If you can finish the course it should encourage a few hundred other people to get off their fat asses and enter next year." He turned to the doctor, "Hey, that was the good stuff."

"I don't get a lot of patients like Felix."

The television crew demanded a little of Felix's time. He praised the work of the medical team and his physical therapist.

"Will you be in the marathon next year?" the newscaster asked.

"Maybe," Felix reached a hand towards Justine. She took it and he pulled her close, then put an arm around her waist. "Marathon was this year's goal. Next goal is dance lessons with my wife."


	3. Lola, El-Oh-El-A, Lola

Disney owns everything Kim Possible. Senior year of college. Ron is developing feelings for Bonnie, but she's dating other guys.

If you don't know the song Google "Lola Lyrics Kinks".

**Lola**

Kim found Shego reading a textbook on the couch, "I just talked to Ron. I think he's drunk."

"Could be. He needs to get his head out of his ass and ask Bonnie out."

"They're just friends. I don't know what's wrong with him."

"You and I were enemies. Now we've got kids. There is something going on with those two."

"That's your imagination."

"You're in denial. Are you sure he's drunk?"

"No. I've never seen him drunk, but he's… He's not acting like himself, but he isn't acting like drunks I've seen."

"I saw him drunk once – he and the Wegos took me out before the wedding. People react to booze differently. Ron gets quiet and moody – he's not a happy drunk. Does that match the symptoms you saw?"

"Pretty much… What should we do?"

"Let him sleep it off, he's got to figure out for himself how he feels about Bonnie."

"This is not about Bonnie. He's not interested in her."

"Fine, he's simply lost his mind and is becoming an alcoholic. Does that make you feel better?"

"Shego!"

"Fine. Let's take him out for coffee or something. Talking is better for him than letting him brood in his room."

* * *

"The area's looking better," Kim commented as the three walked in the direction of the campus.

"Gentrification is our friend," Shego agreed. "You heard the Soho closed didn't you?"

"I didn't pay much attention. It was a wine bar, right?"

"Right. Too upscale for the college crowd. Maybe after more gentrification it would have flown. Someone told me they're selling off the stock. Can we stop? I might find something good."

Kim lowered her voice and motioned in Ron's direction with her head, "Is that a good idea?"

"I'm fine, KP," Ron said, with a voice that suggested all was not fine. "It was just a really hard week in my classes."

Kim blushed slightly, "I just meant… I don't know."

"She thinks you're going to die a forgotten drunk in a gutter somewhere," Shego told him.

"Shego!" Kim protested.

"Okay, I had too much," Ron confessed. "It was a bad week. If Shego can pick up a couple good bottles on sale I promise not to drink them tonight and will stay out of the gutter."

"Fine," Kim agreed, in a voice that suggested that all was not fine – but Ron was in no condition to pick up the nuance.

The old Soho had more customers than it had enjoyed while officially open. The blackboard with cheap prices by the glass was probably the reason. The sound system was cranked up louder than it had been under the previous owner and the popular music of an earlier decade filled the store.

"Champagne," Ron said.

"Ron!" Kim hissed.

"He's a big boy, Princess, let him make his own mistakes." She turned to the young woman, "I'll have one too. I heard there was a sale on bottles and cases?"

"Yes, but you need to talk to the new owner," she pointed to a brawny man in his late thirties. "Want me to ask him to come over?"

He confirmed there was stock for sale in the back.

As he spoke with them a woman came over and asked Ron to dance. Ron tossed back the champagne, "Tastes just like cherry cola," he mumbled. The new owner glared at the woman and muttered something under his breath. Shego glanced over… She wondered if she should say something to Ron as the blonde man let her take him by the hand and lead him out to a clear space in the middle of floor. "What's your name?" he asked.

In a dark brown voice she said, "Lola."

Kim had been too busy sending mental messages to Shego saying, "We don't need any wine," to really pay attention. The sound of the woman's voice caused her to look, she started to get up to go talk with Ron.

"Let him go, Princess," Shego whispered. "That'll sober him up fast enough." She turned to the new owner, "What are you going to do with the place?"

"Got the permits for a micro-brewery. I think some hand-crafted beers and good pub fare will make this place profitable."

"Will you be stocking any imports?"

"Maybe a few. I'm really hoping four or five good options brewed right here will get most of the attention. A lot of people don't know it, but Middleton had a good local brewery before Prohibition – Kringle's Beer. I'm hoping to use the name – need to ask a lawyer about rights."

"Really?" Shego asked in a voice of innocent surprise.

"Shego," Kim hissed. She looked at the man, "We-"

Shego nudged Kim with an elbow, "Quiet, Princess, let the man talk." She apologized to the new owner. "Forgive my friend. She remains convinced drinking is a great evil. Watch out if you see her carrying a hatchet – she's probably going Carrie Nation on you. You said Middleton used to have its own brewery?"

"Yep. A lot of places had small local breweries in the days before refrigerated trucks and added preservatives. They say Kringle put out a good brew… You know that big old house a couple blocks west of here – that was the Kringle home. I'm hoping to persuade the owners to let me use it for some kind of media event when I'm up and brewing."

"Do you know the owners? Think they'll go along with it?"

"I plan to turn on the charm. Someone said a couple women own the place, a gorgeous redhead and…" He looked back and forth at Kim and Shego. "You pulling my leg?"

Shego laughed, "Yeah."

"Any stuff still there from Kringles?"

"Not much. Been a lot of work on the house since then. There were some old Kringle bottles down in the carriage house and—"

"Do you still have any," he asked in an excited voice. "Would you sell them?"

"Yes, and no," Kim told him. "Miss 'I'll Do Anything for Money' here sold some off when we moved in, but we're keeping what's left. They're part of the history of the house."

"I'll bet Miss 'Too Sentimental for Her Own Good' might let you display them," Shego offered, "if you have some kind of case with Middleton beer history."

"Deal. I've been planning a display over there," he pointed at a wall with reproductions of Toulouse Lautrec posters. "Got some photos and reproductions of old newspaper articles. Maximum publicity if we wait until I get set up here and we have a little ceremony when the first batch of new Kringle Pilsner is ready. Bring in the media. Your place or mine?"

"We don't need to decide today," Shego told him. "What're you going to have, besides the pilsner? Going to try a fruit lambic?"

"Maybe someday. I'm thinking pilsner, IPA, and an Irish stout always on hand then a couple seasonal beers or experiments that'll rotate. Had a cream stout one time I really want to try and duplicate."

Kim looked out to the dance floor and didn't like what she saw, "She's going to break his spine."

The new owner scowled, "I don't want that here. That guy—"

"I'm afraid Ron, my friend, has had too much to drink," Kim apologized

"He's drunk off his ass, Kim, admit it," Shego told her. "It's taking all the restraint I have to keep from getting this on my cell phone and posting it to YouTube."

"So he, uh," the owner tried to figure out how to word the question in a way which would not to offend the two women.

"He would normally be able to figure out why she walked like a woman and talked like a man, if that's what you mean," Shego told him. The man nodded.

On the floor Ron's partner pulled him close, one hand caressed the blond man's body, "I love your muscles, won't you come home with me?"

"I'm stopping this right now," Kim said.

"Give him another minute," Shego told her. "It'll sober him up faster if he catches on by himself."

Lola plastered herself against Ron, her lips pressed against him - and Ron suddenly felt the truth. Kim and Shego took their shaken friend out for coffee.

* * *

Well I'm not the worlds most masculine man  
But I know what I am and I'm glad I'm a man  
And so is Lola


End file.
